marrying an
heiress, in order that his aunt might recover money she had literally
thrown away, was grossly repulsive; and also, no doubt, because he was
not docile, though he was good-natured, and he hated to have anything in
his life planned for him by others. He was still less pleased now that
he found himself searching for reasons which should justify him in
marrying Cecilia in spite of all this. Nothing irritates a man more than
his own inborn inconsistency, whereas he enjoys diabolical satisfaction
in convicting any woman of the same fault.

After all, said his Inclination, as if coolly arguing the case, if poor
men were only to marry poor girls, and rich men rich ones, something
unnatural would happen to the distribution of wealth, which was
undesirable for the future of society. Of course, a rich man might marry
a poor girl if he chose. That was done, and the men who did it got an
extraordinary amount of credit for being disinterested, unless they were
laughed at for falling in love with a pretty face. If anything could
prove the hopeless inequality of woman with man, it would be that! No
one thought much the worse of a penniless girl who married for money,
whereas a starving dandy who did the same thing immediately became an
object of derision.

But then, added the Inclination, with subtlety, the opinions of society
were entirely manufactured by women for their own advantage, and that
was an excellent reason for not caring what society thought. The
all-powerful, impersonal "they," of whom we only know what "they say,"
what "they wear," and what "they pretend," are feminine and plural; they
rule all that region of the world within which women do not work with
their hands, and are therefore at full liberty to exercise those gifts
of intelligence which it has pleased Providence to bestow upon them so
plentifully. They do so to some purpose.

Surely, argued Inclination, it was not very dignified of Guido to care
much, and to care beforehand, for the opinions of a pack of women,
supposing that he should come to like Cecilia enough to wish to marry
her for her own sake. And besides, though he was poor, he was not
uncomfortably so. Poverty meant not having horses and carriages, nor a
yacht, and living in bachelor's rooms, and not giving dinner parties,
and not playing cards, and not giving every woman whatever she fancied,
if it happened to be a pearl or a pigeon's blood ruby. That was poverty,
of course, but it was